


Sanity

by Another_Zero



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_Zero/pseuds/Another_Zero
Summary: Elliot needs to feel sane for once. You help him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for Mr. Robot, but I've been wanting to do this for a while. I take requests on my blog Justice-for-shayla on tumblr!

Elliot wasn’t a great friend. He wasn’t even a very good friend, not that you blamed him. So him asking to crash at your place had come as a surprise, but you knew that ignoring the desperation in his eyes would have left you sleepless and guilty. 

So now you were listening to him pace in the next room, wondering what was happening in his head but staying where you were because you were a little afraid to find out. 

After what felt like hours of listening to his endless, cyclical footsteps you finally gave up on silence. 

Padding softly out of your bedroom and into the main room where you could barely make out Elliot’s thin frame moving frantically back and forth across the room. 

“Elliot?” You whispered, stepping closer. 

He didn’t stop, so you got closer, stopping just shy of being able to reach out and touch him. “Elliot?” 

His pacing stopped, but he didn’t look at you. Whatever he was thinking had consumed him so fully you weren’t even sure he could see you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” You asked. 

Without meeting your eyes, he jerked his head in something like a nod. 

Touching wasn’t something you or Elliot did very often, so you were a little awkward when you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. 

That felt like the wrong thing to do, but you had already started, so you stepped a little closer and put your other hand on him. “Are you…” 

You trailed off, feeling that no matter how you ended the question, it was the wrong thing to say. 

Elliot fell forward until his head was pressed against your forehead. You were close enough now that what had started as a more casual, comforting shoulder-touch was almost a hug, and figuring that this couldn’t get much weirder or more complicated, you wrapped your arms all the way around him. 

He exhaled, clinging to you. “I ruin everything, Y/N. I’m… I’m losing my mind and I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Pulling away, he searched your face, something hungry, desperate, and almost scary in his eyes. 

“Elliot?” You whispered, not sure what to do. 

“I know you’re real,” He said. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” You stepped closer again, resuming the hug, but he pulled away again. 

“I just need to feel sane,” Elliot said. “Just for tonight?” 

You opened your mouth to ask what that meant, but he cut you off with an intense, if slightly clumsy, kiss. 

Going along with this was a bad idea. You knew that, but you did anyway because you were good at bad ideas and this was one you’d imagined more than once late at night, when you were sure Elliot was asleep. 

His hands were hesitant as they slid across your body, growing bolder when you responded by pressing your lips harder into his, dragging your hands through his hair. 

Elliot sighed your name and pushed up on your shirt, silently asking a question. You knew you could stop this now, and knew that if you didn’t you wouldn’t no matter how far it went. 

You nodded and stretched your arms up so Elliot could pull your shirt off. 

The only light came through a dirty window from the streetlights below, and it barely illuminated Elliot’s admiring stare as he took in your bare breasts and smooth skin. 

He didn’t say anything as he took in the sight of you, flushed with adrenaline and aching for more of his touch as you waited for him to make his next move. 

Slowly, he glided one hand up your back and over one nipple before skating his fingertips back down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

Unable to hold still, you step a little closer, silently begging him to keep going, to give you more. 

He bent his head down and took one nipple between his teeth, teasing it. You let out a small moan and his fingers tighten on your hips as he bites you enough to hurt in the best way. 

You let yourself enjoy it, rolling your head back and arching into him. He started fumbling with the tie on your pajama pants, no longer satisfied with what he had already exposed. A moment later, you’re naked, and this time he doesn’t wait to observe and admire; he slides his fingers between your folds and works them into you. 

There is no logical reason for him to be good at this-- there’s no way this guy gets that much action-- but he is, and you don’t question it. Your knees get weak and he pulls his fingers out to lead you to the couch. 

Elliot doesn’t quite push you down onto it, but he makes it clear that that’s where he wants you. You sit and he kneels between your legs, looking up at you with intense eyes and wet lips. You nod once, slowly, staring hypnotized as he brings his head down and drags his tongue across you, slowing over your clit to give it special attention. 

Up to that point, you were trying to be quiet, trying not to disrupt the moment with too much noise, but this is too much, and you let out a moan, gripping his hair so you can better guide his motions. 

He doesn’t stop, continuing a relentless, electrifying attack on your clit with his tongue while he works you with his fingers slowly. You’re racing towards a climax and all thought of trying to slow this down or stop are long gone. 

Your orgasm breaks over you and he stops to watch, almost smiling in satisfaction as you gasp for breath and moan out the last of the aftershocks. Abandoning caution, you wrap one hand around the back of his neck and drag him towards you, kissing him hard while your other hand wanders down his chest, tracing lean muscle and the occasional scar until you reach the waistband of his pants. He helps you take them off and sighs when you wrap your fingers around his length.  

For a moment, everything slows as you stroke him gently. It doesn’t last; he pushes your hand away, moving it to his waist as he lays down on the couch and moves you over him. 

“Look at me,” You whisper, waiting until his eyes are locked with yours to slowly sink down onto him, maintaining eye contact until he’s fully sheathed inside you and you can’t help but let your head drop back. 

He stares at where your bodies are connected, and jerks his hips experimentally. When you moan, rocking slightly in response, he does it again. 

Two can play at that game. You start to ride him, keeping it almost torturously slow at first, just to see the expressions cross his face. Unlike you, he’s quiet and your only indications that he’s feeling pleasure are the occasional little gasps. 

You want to hear him moan. 

Picking up the pace, you bring one of his hands up to your breast, and he pinches the nipple. His other hand goes to your clit and the pleasure immediately throws off the steady rhythm you’d established. He rubs a little harder and your movements become even more erratic. 

“Fuck, yes,” He groans, and a jolt of electricity shoots up your spine. 

“Harder,” He gasped. “More.” 

You comply, watching as he starts to fall apart, letting go of your breast to rest his hand on your hip, guiding your motions into an even more frenzied pace. 

His face is unbelievably beautiful like this, his eyes tracing your body and watching you fall apart over him and his jaw relaxing as he groans out curses and prayers, which only encourage you. 

Abruptly, he fists his hand in you hair, pulling you against his chest as he thrusts up into you with abandon. It’s almost too intense and you shout when you fall apart. 

That was all it took for him, and with one final, hard thrust, he holds you against his chest as he comes, sighing into your shoulder and rocking his hips slowly while he rides out his orgasm. 

You stretch, murmuring comfortably as you settle into his chest and close your eyes. 

Cautiously, he wraps an arm around you, negotiating enough space to stretch out on the couch. He brushes your hair off your forehead and you think maybe he’ll kiss you, but he doesn’t. 

You drift to sleep slowly, knowing this would be over when you woke up, and neither of you would talk about it again. He would go back to keeping his secrets-- which you were probably better off not knowing anyway-- and you would keep yours. Just before you’re completely gone, you feel his lips press against your forehead. 

“Thank you.” 


	2. Chapter 2

You were pretty used to mornings after, and you figured Elliot was probably a runner; he certainly wasn't a ‘hang around and cook breakfast’ type. That was fine with you, and you weren’t surprised at all to wake up the night after some frankly mind blowing sex to find that he was already gone. 

Did you think it would have been nice to get to talk that out with him? Yes. But were you sad or angry about it? No. Elliot was Elliot, and you knew better than to expect something like that from him. 

You carried that attitude with you for the rest of the day, and the next day. Once a week had passed without you seeing Elliot, you started to try to accept the fact that you probably wouldn’t see him again. 

A couple more days passed, and you couldn’t ignore your worry. What if he was hurt? You wouldn't let yourself consider the possibility (however likely it was) that he was something much worse than that. Whatever weirdness there was between you and Elliot, you cared about him, and hated the idea that he was gone. 

You drank yourself to sleep that night, unable to face the sleeplessness or nightmares that would have come with unassisted slumber. 

Hours later, you heard the door opening, and though you were still slightly dazed, you jumped up and grabbed the empty whiskey bottle off the nightstand, gripping it like a weapon. 

You crept out into the main room slowly, trying to stay in the shadows. He was instantly recognizable, even in silhouette. 

“Elliot!” You gasped his name and lunged forward, stopping short just before you hugged him. Your relief was so strong tears stung your eyes as you looked at him. 

“Y/N…” He whispered. “I didn't think you’d be awake. I didn't mean to--” 

“I don’t care,” You said, still near tears and desperate to pull him into your arms. It was your turn to doubt that someone was real. “You were gone for so long…” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I thought you were--” You stopped. You couldn’t even say it. “God, Elliot…”

He nodded and stepped closer. “I’m sorry,” He repeated. “Are you… Do you hate me?”

You shook your head. “Of course not.”

“I’m losing everyone,” He said, and you weren’t sure what he meant but you didn’t ask. “I needed to see you.” 

“I’m glad you came back.” You realized as you said them that the words were true; maybe life would be simpler without Elliot around, but you didn't think you could live with the worry. 

“Can I hug you?” You asked after a silence. 

He nodded, surprising you when he stepped closer and pulled you into his arms. You held him for a long minute but realized he was probably uncomfortable and started to pull away. Elliot clung to you, keeping you pressed against his chest. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, reaching up to caress his face. 

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He bent down and very slowly pressed his lips against yours, cradling the back of your head with one hand. 

“Elliot--”

“It worked last time,” He whispered, interrupting. “You… You make me feel sane, Y/N.” 

It was a dangerous amount of pressure to put on one person, and you doubted you would be able to bear it for long, but for now, you wanted him and you could feel that he wanted you, so you kept your worries to yourself and kissed him again. 

Last time, you had fucked him on your couch, a decision made in the heat of the moment. This time felt more real, like it might mean something, so you broke the kiss before it got too heated and led him to your bed. 

He discarded his sweatshirt on the way and took off his shirt, tossing it to the ground before turning to face you. 

You pulled off the tank top you’d been sleeping in, exposing your breasts. He ran one reverent hand over them, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in for another kiss. 

His skin burned against yours and you pushed closer, grinding your hips against him and feeling him harden through your thin pants and his jeans. You slipped your hand into his waistband and wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking gently.

His lips parted and he looked down to watch you. “Please, Y/N,” He groaned. 

“What, Elliot, you said. “Tell me what you like.” 

You gripped him a little harder, picking up your pace. 

“Fuck, yes. I like that.” 

His pants were in your way now, so you unbuttoned them and watched as he pulled them off. He was naked now, and it seemed only fair that you even the playing field. You removed your pajama pants, leaving only your underwear on. 

Reaching out, you traced your fingers along the muscles on his chest, stopping to examine a scar that looked suspiciously like it had come from a gunshot. You didn’t want to think about how that had gotten there, so you moved on to his back, running your fingers down his spine and over his ass, which made him shudder, a useful piece of information you stored for later. 

Kneeling down in front of him, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head and sucking hard. 

“Jesus fuck,” He muttered, gripping your hair. You let him guide your motions, curious what he would like. 

You sucked him and took him as deep as you could, using your hand for what was left. Watching him jerk and twitch as he slid your face down at his pace was unbelievably hot, and you found yourself growing wet. 

He was getting close; his motions were getting less coordinated and more desperate, and you were bracing yourself for his cum, but he pulled away and helped you stand. 

“I want you,” He whispered,kissing you sloppily as he fell into the bed, pulling you with him. 

You wanted him too. 

Just like last time, he positioned you on top, watching your every motion as you lowered yourself onto him and rolled your shoulders back with a low moan of pleasure. You didn’t waste too much time on savoring the feeling, so you started to pick up the pace, knowing he was already close and trying to catch up with him. 

It didn’t take much. He reached between your bodies to press his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles that momentarily short-circuited your brain and slowed your movements. He urged you faster with his other hand on your hip and ground out words of praise between moans. 

“Shit, I’m close,” He whispered. He was biting his lip, face strained with the effort of holding off his orgasm. 

You leaned down, continuing to circle your hips. “Let go, Elliot.” You kissed him once before moving down and biting on the sensitive skin of his neck. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him as he came. 

He held you for a while after he finished, catching his breath and riding out the aftershocks of what looked like an intense orgasm. Reaching up, he pushed a strand of hair away from your eyes and kissed you again. 

You hadn’t expected to see tenderness from Elliot, and it made the world tilt on its axis just a little, leaving you dizzy for a moment. 

“You didn’t finish,” He whispered. He reached between you. “I can--” 

“Don’t.” You pressed your fingers over his lips. “Next time, okay?” 

“But--” 

“Just promise me there’ll be a next time,” You said, letting just a little of your desperation show. 

Wrapping his fingers around yours, he nodded. “I promise.” 


End file.
